


Miranda's Wish

by ShootingStar7123



Series: Tempest Shepard Collection [5]
Category: Mass Effect - All Media Types, Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Adopted Children, Adoption, Artificial Intelligence, Babies, Children, Children of Characters, F/F, F/M, Family, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Female Friendship, Friendship, Infertility, Lesbian Character, Sisters, Spectre Miranda Lawson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-13
Updated: 2019-07-13
Packaged: 2020-06-27 17:46:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19795900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShootingStar7123/pseuds/ShootingStar7123
Summary: Miranda meets Oriana’s new baby and an old longing starts to surface. Oriana/OFC, some Shepard/Garrus.





	Miranda's Wish

Miranda took in the bald little head, chubby cheeks, and button nose. “He’s perfect,” she said, smiling up at Oriana. When Miranda loved, she loved fiercely, and she already loved her newborn nephew even if the child wasn’t technically her blood.

Her sister-in-law Penny (ridiculous nickname, Miranda had always thought, but the woman refused to go by the more regal Penelope) seemed exhausted by her labors and looked pale and worn. But Oriana didn’t seem to notice, if the way she looked at Penny was any indication. That’s what love did. It could make the imperfect seem perfect.

Oriana had refused genetic engineering to make the child half hers, not wanting to continue their father’s awful legacy. She’d said that any child of Penny’s would be hers (and would be loved), so they used carefully selected donor sperm instead. Miranda, though intimately familiar with the process, never told Oriana about the many years she’d tried to get pregnant. Unlike Oriana, she’d had no qualms with genetic engineering. There was a time when she would have done anything to have a child of her own.

Looking down at her sweet, sleeping nephew, she thought she still might if there had been any hope of success.

She was relieved when her omni-tool chimed with a priority message from the council. She handed the child back to Oriana before taking her leave.

“When I get back I expect this little one to have a name,” she said with a smile.

Penny chuckled tiredly. “If you can manage to be gone at least three or four days, I’m sure we’ll agree on something before then.”

As Miranda slipped out of the room, she couldn’t help but steal one last look at Oriana and Penny cooing over their baby boy. That spark of longing burned brighter, and Miranda quenched it viciously. She was satisfied with her life, she reminded herself. She could do more good as a spectre than as a mother.

…

Miranda had become one of the council’s top agents after the war, and she knew she had Shepard to thank for the opportunity. When others had doubts about her, Shepard only saw her potential. With a recommendation from the woman who had saved the galaxy, the council had little choice but to appoint her. Miranda had ensured they would never regret it.

Spectres had a high burnout rate, but never once had Miranda wished to leave the job. It was perfect for her. She worked alone, on her own terms, helping to keep the galaxy safe and make it a better place. It was no accident that Shepard had pushed her into a job where she’d need to interact with more aliens, but Miranda had always been skilled at adapting. She intended to show the council (and everyone) an example of human excellence. She was no Commander Shepard, but she had her talents.

This mission was simple infiltration and information gathering, nothing she hadn’t done before. It would be quick, in and out, and then she’d be able to visit Oriana again.

“Amelia, here are the coordinates of the next target,” Miranda said as she entered her ship, a small corvette that had been adapted to serve her needs. “Alert me when we’re within a half hour of arrival. Stealth as soon as we enter the system.”

“Yes, Spectre,” came the AI’s response in a calm, feminine voice. “Shall I begin the flight checks?”

“Yes, thank you Amelia.” Her AI was an electronic navigation and integrated defense system, purchased from and installed by a friend in the Terminus who owed her a favor. They were quite popular outside of Citadel space, where they were nominally illegal. Being a spectre (and having an AI who would play VI on occasion) certainly had perks.

Amelia woke her from a nap at the agreed-upon time, using her new mechanized body to shake Miranda’s shoulder. It was a bit unsettling to be woken by a robot, but that was a small price to pay for Amelia’s increased capabilities. The body allowed her to make physical repairs and do other tasks around the ship. It wasn’t nearly as advance as the body EDI had, but it was enough to serve their needs.

“How are you liking the new body?” Miranda asked as she got out of bed.

“The Ixchel has been running more efficiently now that I am able to make repairs on my own,” Amelia replied. “It is… interesting to see the ship from this perspective.”

“Please let me know if there is anything you need to further make use of the body,” Miranda said, changing into her gear. “We can make any purchases you need.”

“Thank you, Spectre, but everything is satisfactory at the current time.” Amelia’s platform left the room.

Miranda truly had never made a better purchase than the AI, who ran the ship without any help or interference. She’d seemed little more than an overly-capable VI at first, but had slowly gained interests and preferences. Miranda enjoyed observing how Amelia’s personality grew and changed over time. The body had been her own request, as she disliked having to stop for repairs at various shops around the galaxy. She took personal pride in keeping the Ixchel well-maintained.

Her oddest quirk seemed to be a streak of feminism, which Miranda had no intention of curtailing. After a month of being called her manufacturer-given name, ENID, she’d requested to go by Amelia, after the pilot Amelia Earhart. Somewhat amused by the request, Miranda consented and the two had lived and worked in harmony ever since. Unlike a human, Amelia was quiet, efficient, and never requested a day off. She also didn’t make mistakes, a mortal weakness that Miranda despised in herself and others. All in all, Amelia was the perfect crewmate.

The mission went smoothly, as usual. The council usually relied on her for her skills in infiltration, and Miranda took pride in how rarely she was caught. She hardly ever had to take a life unless directed as part of the mission. She returned to the Ixchel with data in hand, directing Amelia to the nearest dead drop. Knowing it would probably be at least a few days before the council called her again, Miranda’s mind was already returning Oriana and Penny and her newborn nephew.

Miranda sat down at her little dining table with a mug of her favorite Colombian coffee in hand. Going back to visit that baby would be such sweet torture. She’d tried everything to have her own child, but, with a string of failures behind her, she’d made the decision to focus on her career. Her resolve was weakening now, with such temptation before her. She knew some would find her desire absurd. Miranda knew she could be cold, uncompromising, and a perfectionist. She was hardly what anyone would call motherly. But—perhaps due to the lack of love in her own childhood—she had always longed for a little person to love and care for. It was one of the few goals she had left unfulfilled.

“Amelia, what do you think of children?” she asked, as much to get out of her own head as for any other reason.

“Necessary for the propagation of any species,” was Amelia’s glib answer. “However, a woman should have the right to have children or not as she chooses.”

“Some women don’t get that choice,” Miranda replied. “Not everyone has the opportunity to be a mother.”

“Adoption is always an option,” Amelia said. “However, they can be quite loud and messy creatures. And while I have no olfactory senses, I have read that they often smell unpleasant. I have yet to comprehend why some women speak longingly of baby smell.”

Miranda snorted in amusement. “I’ll let you know once I figure it out. Thank you for putting everything into perspective,” she said dryly.

“Always happy to help, Spectre.”

…

“We’ve decided on Ellis,” Oriana told her when she’d arrived at the couple’s apartment. “Ellis Anthony Morehead.” She’d taken Penny’s family name, not wishing to carry the name of their father on to another generation.

Miranda had always felt differently—Lawson was _her_ name as much as it was her father’s and she had no intention of letting him take it from her. But Miranda rarely argued with Oriana about her decisions unless she thought something was unsafe. She’d spent her life being controlled. She didn’t want to be like him.

Miranda spent six days with Oriana, Penny, and little Ellis. Despite the tears and dirty diapers, she loved every moment with him. She rocked him, changed him, kissed him when no one was looking. She tried to seem nonchalant as she handed him back to his parents despite the longing in her heart. She couldn’t deny what she felt, and began to understand why Oriana didn’t care if the child didn’t have her blood. Miranda thought to consider adoption, but who would give a child to a single woman, a spectre? She lived on her ship as much as off of it, and she had no one to care for her child when she was gone outside an AI that was designed for piloting. After her short vacation, Miranda threw herself back into her missions, glad to have a distraction.

Still, she bought the penthouse in Oriana’s building and began to make frequent visits, lavishing affection on her nephew as he grew. When she was away, Oriana would send her vid-mails of all his milestones and achievements. Before she knew it, eight months had passed, and Ellis was crawling all over the apartment, saying “mama”, and smiling and waving at everyone he met. Familiarity only made that little longing grow, no matter how much Miranda tried to suppress it. One day Oriana invited her over as usual, but when she arrived, Ellis and Penny were nowhere to be found.

“I wanted to talk to you,” Oriana said, handing her sister a mug of their shared favorite tea.

“What about?” Miranda replied, staying outwardly calm despite her concerns. Did Oriana want more space? Had she become too overbearing? It had always been one of her worries. Perhaps she should find an apartment somewhere else in the city. The same building might have been pushing it.

Oriana stared into a pair of matching eyes for a moment, and bit her lip before speaking. “There’s no reason you shouldn’t have a baby of your own.”

Miranda blinked, rearing back slightly in shock. “Ori, how…”

“I’m not blind, Miranda,” she cut her off. “I see how you look at Ellis, like he’s the best thing that ever happened to you and at the same time like he cuts you to the core. But it’s more than that. I’ve always known. I can hack as well as you can. When we first met, I wanted to know everything about you.”

Miranda was reeling. “So you knew about my… struggles.”

Oriana nodded slowly, fingers running up and down the handle of her mug. “It was one of the reasons I didn’t want to try genetic engineering with Ellis. Why I knew right away it would have to be Penny to carry our baby. I knew how much pain you went through learning that we couldn’t be mothers. At least not that way.”

Miranda was not a woman who cried. But for a moment, she felt a dangerous pricking in the back of her eyes that she beat back ruthlessly. “No one will give a child to a spectre,” she said. “I would have to give up my job.”

Oriana shook her head. “Penny and I talked about it. We would be happy to care for our niece or nephew when you were gone on long missions. You might have to scale back a little, but I don’t see that you’d need to quit. I suspect your AI might even be happy to babysit for short periods of time.” She reached across the table to grasp her sister’s hand. “You can do this, Miri. I believe there isn’t anything you couldn’t do if you tried.”

Miranda snorted. She’d experienced failure—not often, but _enough_ —to know that wasn’t true. But she wanted this. Wanted it more than anything. “And how do you think this could be accomplished?” she asked.

Oriana’s lips curved into a smile. “Aren’t you friends with the shadow broker?”

Miranda sighed. “That’s… complicated.”

Miranda and Liara had an equitable working relationship and exchanged information as needed, which was not uncommon for a spectre. The real extent of their friendship (if it could be called such) was that Liara trusted Miranda with her identity. It would have been hard for Miranda not to know—she’d been onboard the Normandy when they’d gotten Liara the job—but as the broker she could have easily had Miranda killed for her knowledge. Liara trusted her enough to let her be. Even so, this wasn’t something she could ask the broker for through normal channels. For this, she needed Shepard.

…

Miranda gazed through the Ixchel’s viewport down at the pretty little planet called Elysium. It was considered a paradise, known for its beautiful scenery and wonderful weather. And, of course, for repelling the pirates of the Skyllian Blitz.

Shepard and Garrus had settled down there almost immediately after the war, as soon as the doctors would let Shepard leave. They’d been called up for a handful of missions after that, but for the most part they played at being retired, visiting friends and raising their two adopted children. Miranda hadn’t been to visit since they’d adopted their youngest, a human girl who was over a year old by now. Miranda knew, in her heart, that she’d been avoiding visiting for the same reason that she’d been lavishing love and affection on Ellis. Seeing that little girl would remind her exactly what she was missing. But hopefully, if Shepard and Liara could help her, she wouldn’t be missing out for long.

Shepard greeted her with a tight hug, red hair flying behind her. “Garrus is picking Cas up from school and Leigh is napping,” she said, “so we have a little time to ourselves.”

Miranda always marveled at how happy and carefree Shepard looked these days. The stress of their years on the Normandy had melted away. She was tanned and smiling and had grown her hair out. She wore a loose white tank top with paint marks on it, and a pair of army green cargo crop pants. They chatted in Shepard’s sunny living room and caught up on each other’s lives. Soon Garrus and Cassius came home and Leigh was up from her nap, and the house filled with a pleasant sort of chaos. The afternoon was full of talk and laughter before Garrus cooked them a surprisingly good lasagna. Shepard pulled out what she called “the good wine” (which Miranda judged acceptable) and they shared the bottle during and after the meal. The kids were put to bed, stories were read, and Garrus took himself off to his workshop to let Shepard and Miranda have a quiet talk.

“What brought you out here, Miranda?” Shepard asked. “You don’t usually visit without reason, and your message made it sound a bit urgent.”

Miranda looked down into her wine glass. “I’m sorry if I worried you. What brings me here is personal. I need to get in touch with Liara. Not the usual ways, you understand. This is private.”

Shepard set down her glass as she looked Miranda in the eye. Her brow furrowed slightly in worry. “Of course I can help with that. But are you okay?”

Miranda squared her shoulders. “I want a baby, Shepard.” It was frightening, admitting it out loud. “Liara can find me one. She can ensure the adoption goes through despite the factors that might otherwise work against me. I need this, Shepard.” She stared back at her friend, hoping she would understand.

Shepard’s look softened. “I’m glad you haven’t given up on that dream,” she said quietly. “Raising children is hard work. I’ve cried, I’ve wanted to tear my hair out. I’ve had to go out and shoot targets because I wanted to scream at them. But they’ve also added so much richness to my life. I’ll do what I can to help you, Miranda.”

Relief flooded her, and Miranda smiled. “Thank you, Shepard.”

…

Miranda stayed for three days, waiting.

“Liara calls exactly once a week but never at the same time of day,” Shepard explained. “She scrambles it herself, with the help of her VI. She says it’s the only way to ensure the security so we can speak freely.”

Shepard talked to Liara alone at first, persuading her friend, Miranda suspected. Then she let Miranda into the room and walked away.

Liara stared at her through the comm connection, appraising with cool blue eyes. “I understand you want a baby.”

They talked for several minutes about it. Miranda knew she was being tested as much as she was being question on her specifications.

“A girl,” she said. “A baby girl who needs me. That’s what I want.”

Seemingly satisfied, Liara gave a nod. “I’ll be in contact.”

…

Months passed, enough of them that Miranda despaired of ever getting her baby.

Ellis was toddling around now, getting into everything and being an absolute terror. But all he had to do was blow a kiss to get Miranda’s instant forgiveness. She’d baby-proofed her apartment “for Ellis,” she said, though they all knew it has as much to do with her secret hopes as for her nephew.

Amelia supplemented her usual feminist and historical literature with baby books. Miranda had warned her that a baby might be coming to live with them at some point, and Amelia wanted to be prepared. Miranda refused to discuss the books with her—it had taken everything she had to even admit her hopes—so Amelia studied in silence, wondering at all the different opinions and methods on child-rearing. She kept reading different books, trying to reach a consensus.

Miranda, who had bought several baby books of her own, had stopped trying to hope after all this time. Liara couldn’t—or more likely, wouldn’t—come through for her. She ruthlessly threw the books away and flung herself into her work.

Until one day when she received a voice message.

“Ms. Lawson, this is Renata Glen from Gareth-Byrne Adoption Agency. I’m calling to let you know that your paperwork has been approved. Please return this call at your earliest convenience.”

Miranda’s heart beat wildly. Her mouth ran dry. Could it be true?

When she’d mastered herself, she made the call. Miranda’s hands shook as she took notes on all the social worker was telling her. She put her face in her hands as she ended the call, hardly able to believe this was real. Her future daughter was on Earth, waiting for her.

“Amelia,” she called, her voice trembling. “We have a new destination.”

…

It was hours after she arrived at the agency that she was finally able to meet the child. There were pages and pages of papers to sign, even more than when she’d bought her apartment.

There wasn’t an eye batted about her single status or her career. The shadow broker had undoubtedly smoothed the way.

And finally— _finally_ —her daughter was placed in her arms. Miranda loved her instantly. There was just a hint of soft black hair on her head. Dusky skin, rosebud lips, a tiny snub nose. She was small, smaller than Ellis had been at birth even though she was nearly two weeks old.

“Hello darling,” Miranda whispered to her. “You’re Rosalyn Ada Lawson. And I’m your mother.” The baby blinked up at her with dark, long-lashed eyes. For a moment, Miranda fancied the baby understood her. Then the child yawned and the moment passed.

Miranda stood there in that office, rocking her little Rosalyn to sleep with a soft smile on her face.

…

Life wasn’t all sunshine and roses. Miranda had to leave Rosalyn more than she would like. Worry and sleeplessness were her constant companions.

The council got irritated when she turned down jobs. Ellis got angry that he had to share her attention. Amelia got annoyed that she occasionally had to clean tiny fingerprints off the viewports of the Ixchel.

But Miranda didn’t regret a thing.

…

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Miranda’s ship, the Ixchel, is named after the super badass Mayan goddess of battle and childbirth, sometimes called the “aged jaguar goddess of midwifery and war”.


End file.
